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Lizzie's Lost World

Lizzie sets out on a gap year adventure with her fantasy man.
Lizzie Harrison arched her back away from the worn leather seat and adjusted her upper arms to apply subtle pressure to her breasts. Satisfied that her cleavage had been enhanced to maximum effect, she called over to Richard. “Magnificent view, isn’t it?” He didn’t respond. Lizzie shouted.

Richard jumped. He’d definitely heard her that time but he didn’t even bother to turn round before replying. “Yes, marvelous.” He was craning his neck to see something of particular interest out of the floatplane’s tiny window.

“Ignorant fucking prick,” Lizzie muttered, sagging back into a more comfortable position. It had seemed like such a good idea to start her gap year with Richard.

“Pardon?” Richard asked, turning quickly enough to catch Lizzie pulling a face, which she desperately tried to turn into something less offensive.

“I want to suck your dick,” Lizzie said, smiling sweetly.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you,” Richard shouted against the asynchronous throb of the engines. He moved his head right up to Lizzie’s face. Lizzie inhaled deeply and only just resisted the urge to stick her tongue in Richard’s ear, to grip the earlobe between her teeth and tug. Fuck! Even his hair smells great. It’s not fair! 

“I said, ‘How long ‘til we’re ashore, Dick?’”

“Not long; that’s my uncle’s island down there. We’ll circle round and land in the lagoon.” He said it in the same way someone else would say that they’d just park on the drive rather than leave it on the road. Then again, most people carried their shopping home in cars, on buses or simply walked; what they didn’t do was charter a floatplane. Richard had been born into money; he thought nothing of hiring private planes to nip between islands to visit relatives while he was ‘in the neighborhood’. The neighborhood in question was a private island three hours flying time from the Maldives.

Lizzie had been thrilled and delighted when Richard’s parents had insisted that Richard take a female companion to ‘keep him grounded’. “Finally,” she thought. But alas, Richard had shown little or no interest despite Lizzie’s best efforts and a variety of her skimpiest bikinis. What’s wrong with the man? Lizzie was fairly sure that there wasn’t anything wrong with her – every other man had noticed. Lizzie’s eyes roved over Richard’s brown, hairy legs which extended from a pair of those annoying long baggy athletic shorts. The ‘shorts’ themselves might have been annoying but there were knots of muscles from Richard’s extensive running which Lizzie found very pleasing – and which she longed to place her hand on.

The plane turned sharply and Lizzie took advantage of the opportunity. Her heart leapt as she felt Richard’s skin against hers. He was alert, his eyes roving – but he hadn’t noticed what she was doing. She squeezed, imagining that her hand was on another, more intimate part of Richard’s anatomy. Nothing. His attention is focused on that fucking island – why do I never get that? 

“That’s odd,” Richard said, turning back to Lizzie. “There’s no-one on the jetty, I would have thought that my uncle would come and meet us – or at least send one of his men.”

“Send one of his men?” Lizzie thought. “They live in a different world!” As the plane dropped and leveled just above the turquoise ripples of the bay, Lizzie changed her grip from Richard’s leg to the front of the armrest. “It’s a lost world to me,” she thought sadly, “and one that I’m never going to be part of.”

The plane lurched as the pilot shut down one of the engines and it began to heave with the ocean swell. Lizzie felt her stomach heave alarmingly in the same direction. Her brain didn’t like the idea of being in a plane rolling with the waves. It was just plain wrong. Planes landed – on actual land. Concrete or tarmac by preference but even a basic grass strip would have been better than this water.

“You OK?” Richard asked, placing a hand on her knee. In other circumstances, Lizzie would have been thrilled.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” she said.

“Don’t worry,” Richard replied, patting her knee reassuringly. “We’re nearly there.” It got worse before it got better. As the plane passed the entrance to the natural harbor, the deeper waters added a disturbing metallic grinding sound to the heaving motion. Lizzie looked out of the window. Sea, sky, sea, sky. Please. Just make it stop.

The pilot unbelted and squeezed his enormous frame between the pilot seats before the engine spat itself to a halt. He gave his passengers a wide smile. “Welcome to La Isla Bonita,” he said, spreading his arms wide enough to display two dark circles of sweat. Richard looked out of the window, again trying to find figures approaching the jetty. The pilot’s smile became disturbingly lascivious. Lizzie crossed her arms in front of herself as his gaze dropped once again to her breasts. “Such a pretty island for such a pretty girl. Is very private – no clothes if you no want.” It was very clear what he wanted.

“I’m fine, thank-you,” Lizzie said, huddling herself into a ball in the absence of a male prepared to protect her honor.

The pilot left rolls of fat caught in the doorframe as he squeezed his bulk out into the sunshine. From outside it looked like a particularly difficult birth and the pilot’s hairy body was still recovering its natural shape as he waited for Lizzie to make her exit. She was feeling decidedly queasy and it seemed to her as though the concrete jetty was lurching up and down rather than the seaplane.

“Is OK,” the pilot said, moving into the only point onto which Lizzie could step. “You step, I catch.” There wasn’t room to change places with Richard and he was busy looking up through the cockpit windows. Lizzie stepped but her feet didn’t get chance to touch the floor; she was held aloft in enormous hairy arms which squeezed her body against the pilot’s. She screeched in alarm and tried to wriggle free but the arms had closed like a vice. “Is OK,” the pilot said, pirouetting with Lizzie’s hips resting on his considerable paunch; his fat greasy face between her breasts.

“No!” Lizzie protested, and she was suddenly dropping. The pilot watched as Lizzie’s breasts bounced, no doubt hoping that they’d bounce free of the bikini. He was still close enough to run his hands down her back and grope her arse and he took the opportunity with both hands - but Lizzie’s feet were on solid land and she was moving, ducking away from further abuse to where Richard had casually dropped.

“Did you see that? That bastard just…” Lizzie started but both men had abandoned her; already moving away as though she had ceased to exist. “Wankers.”


“Maybe nobody’s home?” Lizzie said, eyeing the pilot as he sat in the shade of the palms at the edge of the beach. Lizzie had insisted that she and Richard had moved in the opposite direction, saying that she wanted a bit of privacy. Despite the distance, Lizzie could still feel his eyes on her body as he munched his way through his lunch.

“Maybe they didn’t hear the plane?” Richard mused.

“They must know we’re here,” Lizzie said. “Anyone on the island will be able to hear his fucking music.”

“I know he’s here, I only spoke to him this morning,” Richard said, looking up the beach. “Something must have happened,” he said, looking back at Lizzie. He flicked his sunglasses up onto his forehead and squinted, as though trying to get a better view of something. “Oh shit!” Richard said, in a voice which caused Lizzie’s still-churning stomach to somersault.

Richard was gone, running as fast as Lizzie had ever seen anyone run in her life. He was bawling at the top of his lungs and Lizzie turned to see him waving his arms as he closed the distance between himself and the pilot at an astonishing rate. Under normal circumstances Lizzie would have enjoyed the sight of Richard’s muscular frame, arms and legs pumping as he ran barefoot across the sand, but not now. Running across an island paradise should have been so much sexier than all those muddy winter mornings Lizzie had watched Richard as he competed in the cross-country running. He was a champion and it showed. But Lizzie horrified gaze was elsewhere.

The pilot waved back but then registering the haste of Richard’s approach, he stood up. In the circumstances, standing up was a bad move. A very bad move. The kind of move which is so bad that it shortens a man’s life expectancy to just a few seconds.

The pilot found himself standing in a shadow and turned to look up as the shadow grew rapidly around him. Lizzie closed her eyes. The volume of the music meant she didn’t know whether the pilot had had time to scream. She counted to ten and when she looked back, all traces of the pilot had gone and Richard was haring across the golden sand back towards her.

“Stay there,” Richard bellowed. “Don’t move.” Behind him, fifteen feet in the air, nostrils flared and eyes reacted to the movement on the beach. Excitement surged and five tonnes of living being lurched into action.

“It’s coming!” Lizzie shouted. And it was. It plodded clear of the jungle and once on the beach it closed the gap to St. Martin’s cross country champion at an alarming rate. Lizzie’s instincts told her that something that big shouldn’t be able to move that quickly. Richard dropped down to the firmer sand at the water’s edge and he accelerated, matching the pace of his pursuer. He arrived back by Lizzie’s side and span to a halt.

“Is that a Tyrannosaurus?” Lizzie asked, thinking it was a rather stupid question but unable to think of anything better.

“Rex,” Richard confirmed. “It’s Rex, although what he’s doing out on the beach, I’ve got no idea.” Lizzie looked at Richard as though he was unutterably insane.

“You sound lie you know 'him'.”

“Don’t move,” Richard said. “Let him come to you.” Lizzie stood stock still as the towering dinosaur glided to a halt in front of them. The titanic head bobbed and weaved. Lizzie held her breath and listened. There was a sound like an old tractor climbing a steep lane coming from somewhere inside the creature. Its nostrils opened and closed like the valves on a saxophone during a complicated jazz solo as the head continued to sway from side to side.

Lizzie yelped as a growl like that from inside a Harley Davidson detuning specialist making an early start on a Sunday morning vibrated her organs. The enormous head jerked forward and jabbed into her bare belly. Lizzie would have screamed if she had believed any of what her eyes were seeing. It was possible that she had managed the ‘s’ of a scream but it was neatly caught by Richard’s hand as it closed over her mouth and nose.

“Just try and relax,” Richard said, while simultaneously suffocating Lizzie. He’s got lovely hands, so big – such strong fingers. I bet they could do amazing things down between my legs. Not for the first time, Lizzie felt dizzy at Richard’s touch, then realized why; she struggled against Richard’s hold and he immediately released his grip before sliding his hand down to Lizzie’s shoulders, pulling her firmly against his body. The lack of oxygen and surprisingly intimate strength of Richard’s touch threatened to make Lizzie swoon.

“Great!” Lizzie thought, “I’m about to get eaten and this is the point where Richard decides to get all manly and make a move on me.” The dinosaur explored higher, and Lizzie’s bikini top caught and got dragged upwards. Her breasts spilled free and jiggled into their natural shape. Lizzie felt the hand on her shoulder tighten. Did Richard just notice that I’ve got breasts? Shame this 'thing' is going to get to nibble them first.

Lizzie felt a rhythmic thumping through her feet. “I think he likes you,” Richard whispered. “His tail’s wagging.”

“His tail?” Lizzie whispered. But there was no denying the fact. Lizzie could see the enormous length of hard flesh swishing through the air. It was definitely wagging. On the next intake of breath, most of Lizzie’s hair disappeared up the Tyrannosaur’s nose. Suddenly it was gone. The head rose high in the air and there was a ‘rrwishoo’ noise.

“Watch out,” Richard warned, the alarm in his voice re-igniting Lizzie latent fear. “He might stand on us.” The dinosaur repeated the noise.

“What’s he doing?”

“Sneezing fit,” Richard said, backing away urgently, never once letting his eyes stray from the convulsing beast. The dinosaur staggered down the beach, emitting the same ‘rrwishoo’ noise over and over again.

“What the fuck is going on?” Lizzie asked, feeling that her life was out of immediate danger and an explanation was now required.

“That’s Rex,” Richard said, sweeping his hand in the direction of the dinosaur who had assumed a nose-down, tail-up position which had done nothing to quell the sneezing fit. “He’s my uncle’s guard dog.”

“Dog?” Lizzie queried, spitting the word out. “I hate to tell you this Richard, but isn’t a dog – it’s a fucking dinosaur.”

“Yes, well. He thinks he’s a dog. A Labrador to be precise.” Richard turned at the sound of a repetitive squeak. “Here’s my uncle now.” He stepped in front of Lizzie and waved. “Oh, and you might want to adjust your bikini before he gets here,” he added, without turning back.

Lizzie felt a stab of annoyance as Richard marched off in the direction of the man with the wild shock of white hair approaching on a bicycle which looked even more ancient than its rider. “Nice tits, Lizzie,” she said to herself sarcastically as she fed the firm flesh back into each of the skimpy yellow triangles. Lizzie took the opportunity to make that face again, knowing that the object of her desire wouldn’t be turning round to catch her.

The sound of a T-Rex’s sneeze set Lizzie’s legs in motion. “It’s just a big dog,” she thought desperately as Rex thundered up to the high waterline, picked up a tree and dropped it directly in her path. Lizzie couldn’t help but be impressed again – no-one would imagine that something so big could move so quickly.

Rex backed away and squatted in the sand, wagging his tail. “Oh for fuck’s sake!” Lizzie exclaimed, before breaking off a rotten branch and hurling it as far as she possibly could in the direction from which she’d just stomped. Rex leapt into action as Lizzie hurdled the tree trunk, helplessly picturing Richard under her body as she straddled the thick trunk. “This isn’t as thick as that twat,” she thought, tucking her boobs back in as she approached Richard and his uncle.


“This is Lizzie,” Richard said, as though he was introducing a venereal disease.

“My dear, my dear, so very, very pleased to meet you. Thrilled, in fact.” It was like the embrace of a skeleton as the old man briefly wrapped his skinny arms around Lizzie. The smile was filled with genuine warmth and like Richard’s, his eyes never wavered down. I needn’t have worried about adjusting my bikini. Lizzie wondered whether it was a genetic thing, a family trait - both members of the family seemed to be completely oblivious of Lizzie’s body. I could have just as easily left all my clothes at home, saved the hassle of packing and holidayed in the nude for all the effect it would have had. Lizzie thought about the pilot’s greedy eyes and shuddered. Maybe not.

“Lizzie, this is my uncle,” Richard said. Lizzie thought the introduction had ground to a halt. It restarted, but proceeded only with obvious reluctance. “Professor Thunderthighs,” Richard concluded painfully.

“No need for all that formality. Any friend of Dick is a friend of mine. ‘Fairfax’ will do nicely,” the Professor said. “And I see that you’ve already made friends with Rex.” Rex came bounding up and dropped an enormous boulder so close to Lizzie that she had to jump back to avoid being crushed as it settled.

“Rex!” the Professor shouted, with a venom which made Lizzie’s bladder flex. “What have I told you about playing with pebbles?” He took out a newspaper and rolled it into a cylinder. Rex whimpered and cowered, as far as it was possible for a 15-foot high dinosaur to cower. “Now go and put it back where you found it,” Fairfax said sharply. Rex groaned, and only set into action when the Professor raised the newspaper in a threatening manner. Rex carefully gripped the boulder between enormous teeth and sullenly turned back towards the sea.

“He’s a bit of a handful I’m afraid, still training him – but he keeps the riff-raff out,” the Professor said approvingly, as he watched the dinosaur trudge down the beach. “You two alone?” he asked brightly, his focus returning to more pleasant affairs.

“Yes, Uncle. I need to talk to you about that.”


Lizzie was abandoned to trail in the wake of Richard and Professor Thunderthighs with an over-excited but slightly wary dinosaur trying to catch her attention with a variety of sticks, boulders and objects which weren’t so readily identifiable.

Something else that wasn't readily identifiable appeared from the bushes just as the little party passed. It said a cherry, “Helloo!”

“Warrington!” Richard exclaimed, hurrying towards the enormous chunk of muscle which was somehow blending into the background even while he was walking into the clearing. Lizzie’s eyes were immediately drawn down, to a very impressive weapon.

A mouthful of white teeth appeared as Richard shook a camouflaged hand. Rex bounded up to add his greeting. “Come here you big soppy!” Lizzie watched, open mouthed as an Warrington’s hand rubbed across the dinosaur’s blunt nose. High above their heads, Rex’s tail whipped the canopy into a shower of shredded leaves.

“Anyone hungry?” the Professor’s shrill voice chimed.

“Rex is always hungry, aren’t you Rex?” Lizzie’s eyes darted across to where Warrington was holding a small red ball between his fingers. Enormous jaws shot forward and closed around the air where the man had been standing.

“Don’t snatch!” Warrington scalded, before tossing the ball into the air. There was a terrible ‘snap’ as titanic teeth came together high above Lizzie’s head. “Want a go lassie? He’s anybody’s for a tomato.”

“No thanks,” Lizzie said, but felt the tomato being thrust into her hand regardless. Rex’s head followed Warrington.

“Aye haven’t got it,” Warrington protested, revealing a twang of a Scottish accent. Rex sniffed as Warrington threw up his hands in explanation. Lizzie watched in mute horror as the head bent lower, searching for the fallen fruit. It moved slightly, left and right with each inhalation. Each time moving inexorably closer to Lizzie’s feet. Rex lifted his huge head and looked hungrily at Lizzie. Her heart stopped. The eyes blinked and he took a step back… and sat down.

“Gud boy,” Warrington said. “Throw it for him, then,” he said to Lizzie. Lizzie threw the tomato as far and as hard as she could, thankful that the lunging dinosaur was lunging in the direction of away. When her attention returned to the new arrival, she found Warrington watching intently as her breasts settled back into position. He didn’t hide the fact that he was looking.

“I’m sorry, I’m forgetting me manners: the name’s Minge, Warrington Minge.”

“Lizzie, Lizzie Harrison.” Lizzie had the distinct impression that the vigorous handshake was an excuse to set her breasts jiggling. Yet somehow, the gaze wasn’t ‘pervy’ – just appreciative; the subtle difference between looking at a nude painting in an art exhibition and masturbating furiously over the centerfold of a pornographic magazine.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, young Lizzie. You’re a fine looking woman.”

“Thank you,” Lizzie said, automatically adjusting her hair.

“Come-on, we’d better get going, or we’ll never hear the bloody end of it.” Lizzie realized that Richard and the Professor had disappeared from view. There was no telling which trail led to wherever they were going and there was a T-Rex doing unspeakable mischief in the bushes. Lizzie’s blood pressure leapt. This was somewhere Lizzie really didn’t want to be left alone.

“That’s a very impressive looking weapon,” Lizzie said, desperately trying to start a conversation with the wild man in the camouflaged kilt. Minge looked down sharply.

“That’s Bess,” he said, with a note of relief in his voice.


“She’s a quad-barreled, semi-automatic elephant gun,” Minge said proudly, his hand stroking the open breech. Lizzie had never seen a gun like it. It looked for all the world like the main armament of a battleship.

“Do you get many elephants on the island?” Lizzie asked, conversationally.

“Not anymore,” Minge replied. A wild look took hold of his face and his quick eyes scanned the vegetation as though expecting a rampaging elephant to come bursting through at any second. Lizzie suddenly had a desperate urge to be alone. Rex’s head appeared through the bushes up ahead, checking on their progress. No, not alone. Away. Not here.

“Tell me about this place,” Lizzie asked.

“Well, this is La Isla Bonita, you know like the Madonna song. Otherwise known as the ABACUS.”

“Abacus?” Lizzie asked.

“Absolute Bollocks And Complete Utter Shite, if you ask me.” Lizzie frowned. Minge didn’t like to make pretty girls frown. “Advanced Biological And something something Studies. Cellular? Underhand? Unsavory? Sorry, I’m just the groundsman. It’s pretty advanced genetics anyway, as you can see from Rex here.”

Minge’s forehead creased and he emitted a sharp whistle. The rustling which had been fading, started to get louder. Lizzie found that she barely flinched as Rex appeared above the bushes, tasted the air currents and immediately disappeared into the foliage on the other side of the track.

“What about Richard and his Uncle, Thunderthighs wasn’t it, what’s their story? And where does that name come from?”

“Fairfax is a family name, traced all the way back to the Parliamentary commander in the English Civil war at Adwalton Moor. Apparently, Richard’s great, great,” Minge motioned that he was skipping a few generations, “grandmother, well, she slept with the commander, Fairfax, and followed up by sleeping with what was left of his Cavalry - they were known as the Thunderthighs. She was a lady of, ah, negotiable affection.”

“A prostitute?”

“Yes, but don’t use that word around the dinner table. It’ll only upset them. I admire her. Full of spunk by all accounts.” Lizzie shivered. “She was an entrepreneur – which wasn’t easy for a woman in those days. When she fell pregnant, she opened a whorehouse. Lots of horny soldiers milling around the countryside, you see - clever woman, she made a mint. And what she started in Bradford in 1643, led directly to this.”

This was a rather spectacular house squashed into a clearing in the jungle where the ground became suddenly steeper. It was Palladian in design but what made it so spectacular was there was just so much of it; as though the White House had been dropped into the Brazilian rain forest. “Money and plenty of it has been invested in this place,” Lizzie thought, as she followed Warrington up the steps. 

“Uh-oh,” Minge groaned. “Here comes trouble.” Lizzie watched as the girl clattered down the sweeping stairs. To say her appearance was immaculate was an understatement. Her skin was to die for, clear and bright with a golden glow as though she had trapped sunlight and was re-radiating it into the room. Her white sarong emphasized both the movement of athletic muscles and the prominent white triangles of her skimpy bikini; reddish golden curls bounced over strong shoulders.

Lizzie swore that the sound of her heart grew louder as smoldering eyes gouged a critical path over her painfully white skin, down stubbly legs and dropped to badly chipped toenail polish before sweeping back up. She was mortified to be in such company – no wonder Richard never looked at her twice. “Hello, beautiful. I’m Amanda – Mandi to my friends.”

Mandi stuck her hand out. Lizzie cringed as she saw the perfect manicure. An instant hatred filled Lizzie; she hated Mandi for the girl’s God-given flawless beauty, and the perfect life she was living and for the fact that she obviously had Richard.

“Hi, Amanda,” Lizzie said, rather pointedly and felt an instant wave of guilt. It wasn’t Mandi’s fault. “I’m Eliza- Lizzie.” She managed a smile, although she felt like a ventriloquist manipulating a dummy’s face. Mandi didn’t seem to notice, her smile was more than wide enough to share between both sets of lips.

Richard’s entrance jolted the girls back into the room. “Mandi!” he cried, his voice filled with previously-unheard enthusiasm. Lizzie’s heart sank as he swept her up in his arms. Lizzie watched painfully as Mandi pushed her face into Richard’s hair and smelt him. Lizzie longed to do that; he always smelled so good.

“Have you been using my shampoo, you little freak?” Mandi was struggling out of Richard’s grip. She inhaled again and ran her fingers through his hair. “You fucking have! Do you know how difficult it is get that stuff out to this fucking island? Do you?” Mandi was incandescent with rage. “I hate you,” she screamed and stormed off, her sarong a streamer of white fluttering prettily in her wake.

“Well,” Lizzie said, into the silence which followed.

“It wasn’t my fault,” Richard protested, addressing Warrington. “You know what Rex is like after he’s eaten meat. He farted and Uncle Fairfax and I got showered in sh-.“ Warrington’s laughter echoed around the bare walls before Richard had time to finish.

“Never stand behind Rex. How many times have I told you that that’s the dangerous end, you daft twat?” Richard wasn’t happy at the verbal abuse and started to sidle away.

“Rex is vegetarian?” Lizzie asked. “How is that possible?”

“Anything’s possible if you know which gene to tweak,” Warrington answered, wiping away his tears. “I mean, look at Mandi. If Prof could make a straight, sane version of her, we’d be on to a winner.”

“The Professor made Mandi?”

“Oh aye. She’s lovely, and she’s physically perfect - built to my exacting specifications, by the way - but she’s a histrionic little bitch and completely and utterly bent. As lesbian as it’s possible to be. Won’t let a man anywhere near her. I should know, I’ve been trying to shag her for years. She likes the look of you though.”

“Me?” Lizzie squawked, remembering the way those eyes had gazed at her. “The problem is I’m straight. I don’t think I’d enjoy it.” Lizzie heard the doubt in her voice – Mandi was extremely beautiful; if you were ever going experiment, the time to do it was with a lesbian supermodel look-alike who had the hots for you.

“That’s not a problem,” Minge said, checking left and right rather theatrically. “Just take a few drops of this and you’ll be as bent as a nine-bob note.”

“This’ll turn me into a lesbian?” Lizzie asked doubtfully, looking at the tiny bottle’s clear contents.

“Probably. All I know is that it turns me into a raging faggot and it puts a bit a wood into that asexual twat you arrived with – Richard. If it can make a Thunderthighs horny for me, I can’t see why it wouldn’t work on a girl.”

“Richard’s asexual?”

“You haven’t noticed?” Minge’s voice cracked into a laugh. “Didn’t you think it odd that he’s never tried to shag a hot piece of ass like yourself?” Lizzie wasn’t sure whether to take the compliment, or be offended by Warrington’s choice of words, so gave a controlled smile. “I’ve been hard since I laid eyes on you, lass. And I’m going to go and have a wank in the shower, unless you want me to put this erection to better use.” He started to pull at the hem of his kilt.

“No, I’m fine.” Lizzie said, hurriedly. “I’ll just go and have a little look around. Maybe find Mandi.”

“Good idea,” Minge said. “I’ll think about the two of you while I’m in the shower. Don’t forget, one or two drops,” he said, pinging the bottle. “The effect is instant and it lasts for a few hours.”


Richard had meticulously planned every element of this latest attempt to get his end away with Little Miss Perfect. She’d been alone for so long – and he’d seen the way she’d been lusting over Lizzie as she lazed by the pool. Even if she was a lesbian, she’d be horny as hell and desperate for some fun. He was naked, on her bed, waiting.

Mandi was the only girl who had ever really appealed to Richard. He’d boned the odd broad along the way but she was the only girl he’d ever met who gave him urges. Richard knew who he was and embraced his sexuality. The nights with Warrington were enjoyable enough but Richard had a desire to be the alpha male and that was never going to happen when sharing a bed with Warrington. The man was a sexual Tyrannosaurus. There was something about Mandi's minge which appealed to Richard more than Minge.

Perhaps it was the challenge of her; the unattainable nature of Mandi being a lesbian. Richard liked challenges and was sure that he could convert her… once he’d got to fuck her that first time. Not that he’d bother with a second time.

He knew that Lizzie was making Mandi horny and a horny lesbian might just… Mandi stepped into the room and closed the door.

Mandi laughed.

“What the hell is that?”

“My penis?” Richard said, uncertainly. Laughter wasn’t a good thing when penises were concerned.

“That's your penis? Ha! That is the tiniest penis I've ever seen.” This was true since the only other penis she had ever seen was Warrington’s and he had to wear a kilt on account of no other clothing being capable of accommodating his ‘Little Dangler’. And even then, he had to strap it to his thigh to stop it getting snagged on thorn bushes. “Does it get hard?”

“It is hard,” Richard mumbled.

“Really?” Mandi asked. “I hadn't realized that they came so small. Why don’t you fuck off and play with it and let me have a bit of peace?”

“You fucking bitch,” Richard spat, jumping up from the bed. “I know what you’re going to do, you’re going to play with yourself, thinking of little Lizzie.” Mandi’s stomach sank; that was exactly what she had been going to do, again.

“I think it's broken,” Mandi said, trying to recover. She hid the cold horror spreading from her stomach behind a nasty smile. “Uh-oh, it's getting even smaller.”

“Yeah well, it’ll get plenty big enough when and I go and stick it in that daft bitch you’re so fond of. Lizzie’s moans won’t be of complaint when I fuck her. She’ll love it.” Richard tugged his top over his head and started on his shorts. “I’ll make sure to leave the windows open, so you can listen to her call my name as I make her come.”

“Get out! Get out of my room!” Mandi screeched, desperately trying to hold the separating pieces of herself together. The attack had been calculated to pierce Mandi’s insecurities and to take away the one ray of hope in her life. Richard was going to fuck Lizzie. As the door slammed shut, Mandi collapsed on the bed and cried. She didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to hear Lizzie give herself to that prick.


“Having fun, are you?” Warrington asked as Lizzie wandered back to have a shower before dinner. Lizzie was getting used to the slow pace of island life. There was a good selection of books in the library and so much space. How long had it been? At least a week, possibly more – it was just so… timeless. “Been making up with Mandi?” Warrington’s eyebrows flicked suggestively.

“Mandi? Why would I need to make up with her?” Warrington’s face dropped.

“So that wasn’t you she was arguing with earlier?”

“No. I took Rex for a walk down to the cove. I saw her on the beach earlier – I waved but I don’t think she saw me.”

“Shit,” Warrington muttered. “She hasn't come back and it’s getting dark. The beach is no place to be after dark. She knows that. We’d better go and get her before the Professor finds out. He’ll go ape-shit.”

“We? I thought we weren’t allowed out at night?”

“I might need you to help get her back. Come-on, we’ll go and get Rex and Bess.”

Rex was lying on his back with his feet in the air. His feet were kicking back and forth as though he was running. “Watch yourself,” Warrington warned. “He might get a bit excitable when he finds out that we’re going for an extra walk.” The inverted eye flicked open at the mention of the ‘w’ word.

There was something horribly cold and reptilian about the way it looked out at the world; it was unseeing, as though the Labrador inside Rex was still slumbering, dreaming doggy dreams about chasing sticks while the prehistoric monster lurking within the body’s DNA had just awoken from its own 65 million-year slumber and was assessing the possibility of Lizzie becoming a light snack. For the first time in days, Lizzie felt terror as the eye focused on her.

“Walkies!” Warrington said sharply. Lizzie couldn’t explain what changed in the immobile beast, but Rex was suddenly Rex again and she no longer felt like she was on the menu. “Come-on Rex, come and help us find Mandi.” Rex lurched into life, his tail whipping back and forth enthusiastically.


It was dark on the trail down to the beach and difficult to hear anything with Rex surging through the undergrowth. “Errr, Warrington. I think there’s something following us.”

“Quite possibly. It’s probably just a raccoon.”

“It can’t be a raccoon. Its eyes are five feet off the ground.” Warrington stopped and looked in the direction of Lizzie’s outstretched finger.

“It’s a raccoon. They grow big here, Lizzie.”

“Why is it following us?”

“It’s not following us. It’s following you. It’s the smell of your pussy.”

“Now hang on a minute,” Lizzie protested. “I might not have had a shower since this morning but I hardly…”

“It’s gay, Lizzie. A lesbian. They all are. All of the Professor’s creations. It wants to taste your pussy, to lick it, to play with it. To be honest, I can’t say I blame it. I’m not immune to the effects myself.” Minge paused, and Lizzie heard him taking a deep breath through his nose. “And you are particularly fragrant tonight. Have you been playing with yourself?”

Lizzie felt guilt welling up from deep within her core. Is it that obvious? Before she had a chance to reply, there was a noise from deep inside the darkness; a noise like a suicidal whale playing the bagpipes. The words of protest that had already left Lizzie’s brain were trampled by a second, more urgent enquiry: “What the fuck was that?”

“I don’t know, but it came from that direction, so I think we’ll go this way.”

“Err… that’s towards the noise… and whatever made it. Don’t you think we’d be better off going in some other direction?”

“That’s what it’ll be expecting us to do,” Minge said, his eyes gleaming with wild intensity. Oh great, I’m out here with a madman. Minge’s face cracked into a smile. “Only joking. You don’t need to worry about the ones that call. It’s the ones that don’t make a noise that you need to worry about; the ones who are sneaking up on you, drooling.” Lizzie waited for the crack of another smile, the revelation of the joke. Minge’s face remained tight, grim.

“They won’t bother us with Rex roaming around. He’s our bodyguard.”

Rex growled.

A growl is a special kind of noise which resonates with a human's soul. It has evolved over thousands of years, and it invokes a special kind of terror; a terror which comes from sharing caves with dogs as mountain lions and bears roam around outside. A growl is a warning that someone might be about to be dragged out into the night, never to be heard of again.

Well, never to be heard of again after the initial screaming has stopped.

This was that kind of warning. The kind of warning which loosens every bowel within a mile radius; for even among growls, this was a special growl; it was a Labrador's growl but using a T-Rex's vocal cords; it was loud: louder than that time Lizzie had been to one of those festivals and a dog had run onto the stage and got hold of the lead singer's microphone. As the bouncers chased the dog, those growls had been amplified to 118 decibels by a wall of speakers. This growl was significantly louder.

Rex sniffed the air. And as much as a Tyrannosaur can look thoughtful, Rex did. He was remembering. Rex had possibly the best sense of smell of any animal that had ever existed. A Labrador's olfactory processors hooked into the enormous nasal chambers of a T-Rex skull meant Rex had a forensic smell map of the entire island. And something was different. There was a sour sweetness hanging on the breeze.

Nostrils twitched as Rex's head swept from side to side. There.

Rex roared, full volume and charged into the impenetrable jungle. The jungle was impenetrable in the same way that a brick wall seems impenetrable until someone drives a car into it at high speed. “Fuck,” Warrington exclaimed. “That makes things a bit tricky. Being out here with Rex is one thing. Without him, we'll need to be very careful. Stay close.”


Lizzie heard the sound of the waves before she saw the beach. The path opened-up suddenly and there on the sand was a small figure, looking out to sea. She was hugging her knees. Warrington stopped dead in his tracks and listened. Lizzie crunched into his back. “When I said, close…” Warrington whispered.

“Why have we stopped?”

“Can you hear that?” Warrington looked worried. If he was worried… Lizzie cocked her head, her ears listening frantically. The only thing she could hear were faint female sobs, interspersed with sharp sniffs.

“The only thing I can hear is Mandi,” Lizzie whispered.

“Exactly,” Warrington said. “She’s crying. I don’t fancy… you know, being the one who disturbs her.” Lizzie could see the look on Warrington’s face. It was a look of fear. “She’ll probably want to talk. That’s no place for a man. Here take this with you, she’ll probably get thirsty – you know from all the talking.”

Lizzie approached quietly. She didn’t like being alone in the darkness even with a gun-wielding maniac between her and the contents of the jungle. The night was filled with the sounds of things living and dying; shagging and being eaten.

“Do you know what it’s like to be all alone?” Mandi asked, without turning round. Lizzie decided that it was the kind of question which wasn’t looking for an answer. “To have no-one to love, to have no-one to love you?” The question was punctuated by a loud sniff. “Well, it’s much easier than having someone you want, who doesn’t want you back.” Lizzie caught the accusational tone. Mandi half-turned towards Lizzie and the perfect complexion had gone; her face was puffy, the hair wild – she looked, well normal.

“Here, have a swig of this,” Lizzie offered Mandi the bottle.

“Thanks,” Mandi said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Lizzie took a swig and replaced the lid. They sat in companionable silence, listening to the thuds and screeches, the buzz of life and death.

“How long do you think you’ll stay,” Mandi asked. Lizzie noticed for the first time that Mandi’s voice had a crack in it; it was cute – why had she never noticed it before? Lizzie risked a side-long look at Mandi to see if she was still crying but couldn’t draw her eyes away from the long legs shining in the reflected light of the sea. The soft sweeping curves of the bare skin made it hard for Lizzie to draw breath. She wanted to stare at Mandi’s legs forever; didn’t want to blink in case she missed something.

Lizzie’s mouth was suddenly dry and she took another sip from the bottle. Mandi was wearing tiny cut-off jeans. They were so short that Lizzie could make out the curve of a buttock. She had an urge to run her hand down Mandi’s thigh and into her shorts. Lizzie wondered whether Mandi was wearing knickers. I hope not. 

Lizzie’s pulse was racing frantically as awareness of Mandi’s amazing body filled her being. How have I never noticed before? I mean she’s a lovely girl but… 

“Are you alright?” Mandi asked, glancing over. Even in the darkness, Lizzie could feel the intensity of the blue orbs burning through her. There was a ripple of something else. Mandi’s lips, full and sensual.

“Mmmm?” Lizzie muttered.

Mandi’s hair looked mussed, as though someone had just run their fingers through it. Lizzie’s fingers instinctively found and followed the grooves, and as they did, her thumb traced over the sharp cheekbone and down onto the perfect chin.

Lizzie’s fingers finished their slow journey through Mandi’s soft hair and joined Lizzie’s thumb on Mandi’s chin. “You’re sure you’re all right?” Mandi asked, aware of the oddness in Lizzie’s behavior.

Lizzie couldn’t answer any more significantly than with an unseen nod because she didn’t seem to be able to breathe; she felt weak. She knew what she had to do to end the claustrophobic tightness in her chest.

There was sudden movement in the darkness which brought Lizzie’s tingling lips into contact with Mandi’s surprised mouth. To call it a kiss would be to exaggerate the success of Lizzie’s oral attack.

Lizzie felt the first rush of heat surge through her body, of desire being satisfied… but not very satisfied.

Shocked, Mandi pulled away, but as she dropped, Lizzie followed her. It was what Mandi had wanted but it wasn’t something she was ready for. No-one had ever kissed her like that; Lizzie was so hungry and passionate – and she was using her tongue to do things; exciting, dirty, wonderful things.

“She wants me,” Mandi realized, and a bubble of giddy pleasure started gurgling in disbelief. A myriad of sexual images played through her mind. Everything inside her did something that felt suspiciously like melting. Instinctively, Mandi tried to fight it, tried to regroup but Lizzie kept coming – it was impossible to steel herself against what she wanted to do with the girl she wanted to do it with.

Lizzie pulled her lips away and both girls dragged in much needed breath.

“Mandi…” Lizzie was on top, her slender curves a silhouette against the star-encrusted sky. Her soft weight lifted from Mandi’s hips and fingers entwined, she pressed all four hands into the soft sand above Mandi’s head. Mandi felt exciting vulnerable.

When the kiss came, it was an entirely different kiss; tender and soft but with no less passion. Mandi gasped through her nose at the unexpected emotional penetration. The tears came, rising from deep within her core, from the hard knot of angry disappointment that was the foundation of her isolated life.

The delicious warmth of the she’s-so-sexy-and-funny-and-amazing-and-sexy was stripping away at Mandi’s hard knot. She could feel it changing her. She tried to summon her willpower; tried to fight it, tried to hold on to what she thought of as herself against the hurricane of Lizzie’s gentle intimacy. The bitterness and anger was being scorched away.

With frightened comprehension, Mandi realized it was already too late. Her body heaved with a resigned inward sigh of relief. A sob of happiness escaped. Happiness was something that had played only a tiny part in Mandi’s life and had never existed in the consuming way it was enveloping her on that beach as Lizzie kissed her.

“Are you OK?” Lizzie asked, sensing the change in the body between her thighs.

“Yes,” Mandi replied, through her tears.  I didn’t know to want you like this. I just wanted to fuck you. This? This is so much better. 

Extremely shaken, Mandi gathered her courage, lifted her head and placed a kiss on Lizzie’s lips. Queasy panic was replaced by relief when Lizzie’s lips moved and started kissing her back. “Oh my darling,” Lizzie muttered. The endearment sent a hot flood through Mandi’s body and it twisted, rubbing itself against Lizzie.

Lizzie felt Mandi shifting, felt the bony outcrop of Mandi’s hip against her inner thigh and pussy. There was temptation down there in the darkness and Lizzie’s stomach clenched as she decided to act upon it. She felt the pull of those long, long legs and what was nestling between them. It was more than a vague curiosity; it was a need. The thought of exploring between Mandi’s legs made her heart flutter and she started the journey down.

Mandi gasped as Lizzie’s kisses dropped from her lips to her chin and onto her throat. Nerves tightened in her stomach as she felt the material of her bikini top being pulled aside. Oh my god! Lizzie was kissing the flesh of her breast, following the contours up to her nipple. Mandi gulped as a soft, wet mouth sucked and pulled on the sensitive nub for the first time. Then she felt teeth… which gripped… and pulled.

It felt to Mandi as though her nipple was a sexual fuse and Lizzie had just used a blowtorch to ignite it. “Fuck!” she gasped into the night, as every part of her body erupted with desire. Both breasts were being squeezed and a glorious kind of confused panic set her body aflame as Lizzie continued to nibble. But as glorious as that felt, Mandi was using her hands to push Lizzie down – showing her what she wanted by lifted her groin off the beach.

Four hands worked furiously on buttons in the darkness and the material was ruthlessly dragged down wriggling legs, legs that quickly closed around Lizzie’s back. There was no teasing, no tormenting; there was only urgent, hungry need to give in to temptation.

The coolness of the ocean breeze on Mandi’s exposed pussy was replaced by warmth. Mandi had never felt anything like it; it was the most amazing, the most intimate feeling. And then Lizzie’s mouth opened and her tongue ran over and between Mandi’s labia. It was a paradigm shift; a quantum leap: Mandi knew that her life had been empty but she hadn’t realized just how devoid of affection it had been.

The kiss had been amazing; this was better. Mandi was drowning in a flood of sensations, of longings, of needs. Her breath had strangled in her lungs; she couldn’t breathe. She didn’t want to; she knew what the tightening in her pussy meant.

Lizzie was aware that she’d never done anything quite so ground-breaking in her life; she couldn’t imagine why she had never done it before since there wasn’t anything that she wanted to do more. A thrill moved through Lizzie as Mandi’s fingers tightened in her hair, knowing that she was pleasing her. Salty sweetness; soft pliable flesh - it was all so good.

Mandi closed her eyes, made a wish and prayed with every wild beat of her heart that it would come true. The crushing weight building inside broke into searing heat as Lizzie licked her most sensitive place. Mandi was sure that lightning was crackling into the night. It was the only explanation for the lights flashing behind her closed eyelids, and the electricity coursing through her nerves. Pleasure followed the light, ripping into her, filling all those dark, empty and lonely places. Her body arched and then sagged back to the sand, breathless, formless but for the first time, somehow complete.

Mandi came round to find her head on Lizzie’s shoulder, the heaving swell of Lizzie's breast blocking the view of the stars. Lizzie’s arms were holding her tight. ”Do you want me to do that to you?” Mandi asked. Lizzie recalled Warrington’s comment about her ‘fragrant’ minge and felt an urgent need to shower first.

“Perhaps we should head back, to where it’s safer.” Lizzie’s comforting weight shifted and disappeared but as Mandi stood, Lizzie’s hand slipped into hers. It was an intimate gesture which made Mandi’s heart stutter again. Perhaps she should get the Professor to give her an ECG.

“This isn’t a one-time fling, is it?” Mandi asked, fearing the answer.

“Not if we do it again, no.” It was too dark to see Mandi’s grin.

As the girls walked hand-in-hand up the beach, two shadows detached themselves from the menacing darkness of the jungle: one was 15 feet high; the smaller one, carrying an enormous metal box of cylinders which glistened in the starlight, was walking with a very pronounced limp.

As the four figures moved away, sounds started to punctuate the uneasy truce which had becalmed the night: sounds of things living and dying; shagging and being eaten reclaimed the unnatural silence. And among those sounds was the soft music of two girls giggling.



Mandi and Lizzie were sharing some ‘alone time’ at the cove. Rex was still trying to doggy paddle in a body which had extremely mismatched legs. “He’s going to drown if he’s not careful,” Mandi said, as the tail periscoped across the deeper, bluer water as Rex chased something unseen.

Sometime later, nostrils appeared above the waves and Rex charged out of the water and up the beach. “Uh-oh, looks like he’s smelt something.”

A moment later, there was a horrified shriek. A human shriek. The girls looked at each other before turning and hurrying towards the sounds of an extremely excited dinosaur. They found Rex in a clearing with a very disheveled figure frozen against a rock face. “No move,” the voice warned. “He no see you if you no move.”

Lizzie strode out into the clearing and suddenly wished that she had paused to put her bikini on. “I thought you were dead,” she said to the pilot. In fact she hadn’t given much thought to anything other than the naked girl sharing the clearing. Falling in love tends to block out all other thoughts.

It was a thinner, hairier version of the man she’d last seen on the day she’d arrived on the island. His eyes were wild, and fixed on the head swaying back and forth not six feet in front of him.

“Rex, get over here!” Lizzie said with startling authority. Rex slunk back reluctantly.

“How… how you do that?” the pilot whispered. He had the tortured look of a man who hadn’t dared sleep for weeks. “That thing has been after me since it stole my sandwich on the beach.”

“Ah, that’s where he keeps running off to - he’s been hoping to get fed. Come-on, we’ll take you back to the house.”

Warrington intercepted the stranger at the edge of the lawn. “What kind of sandwich?” Minge asked, suspiciously.

“I no know, why it matter?” the pilot replied helplessly, as he watched the T-Rex rolling in something disgusting he’d found on the lawn.

“It’s of vital importance,” Minge replied.

“A 'BLT'?”

“Tomato? That explains it – he’s anybody’s for a bit of tomato. But you want to be careful with the bacon. Meat gives him the shits something rotten.”

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © Copyright ©2015 Abigail Thornton. All Rights Reserved.

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